


Roach's Roach

by bananamoop



Series: Two best friends... Maybe they'll kiss..... [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: (Just a little bit), Angst, Comedy, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Domestic Fluff, Flashbacks, Fluff, Friendship, Geralt and Jaskier are Roach's dads, Humor, Jaskier is not a morning person, M/M, Roach is a refined lady, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Trauma, and is really self indulgent in general LMAO, enjoy, horse pregnancy, this whole thing is super domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananamoop/pseuds/bananamoop
Summary: “By the way, why have you been staring at the horse all morning??”Geralt’s amusement hadn’t budged. He turned to face the bard, clasped his hands over Jaskier’s (who was still holding half a cup of soup), and looked him dead in the eye.“Roach,” He said, “Is pregnant.”“SHE’SWHAT?!”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Two best friends... Maybe they'll kiss..... [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042458
Comments: 4
Kudos: 121





	Roach's Roach

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my current obsession y'all. I've played most of tw3, watched the show, and am slowly chipping away at the books (which you def should read if you haven't)  
> The characters are based off of their game and book versions, where Geralt openly admits that Dandelion is his best friend in the entire world (seriously, their friendship is so wholesome in the books!!!).  
> I don't have a beta reader or anything so if you catch any mistakes please let me know!

Jaskier’s mind clung to unconsciousness. Something had roused him from his deep sleep, but it was still in sight. All he had to do was coax it back into its rightful place behind his eyes. His body had other plans, however. The ground of the campsite they had decided on was harder than usual despite being covered in grass. The bard had tossed and turned all evening to try and get comfortable. At some point, Geralt had thrown an extra fur at him to use in an attempt at getting him to settle down. It had worked, but his body had gotten used to the padding during the night, and his hips were more than happy to let him know that the dirt was, in fact, _not_ comfortable enough to fall asleep on again. On top of it all, the extra warmth the fur had caused the troubadour to peel off his undershirt and throw it in an unknown direction while he slept, leaving him in only his linen boxers. A decision he currently regretted as he shivered and pawed at his blanket, now in a mess around his feet.

Jaskier sighed miserably, sat up, pulled his covers into his lap. His eyes fell open as he went to brush through his hair with his fingers, only for them to get caught almost immediately. He closed his eyes, cursed, and groggily brought both hands up to his head to assess the damage. He would need half an hour and his strongest comb in order to attack the rat’s nest on his head. The bard struggled to keep his eyes open as he clumsily rummaged through his bag next to him and pulled out a double sided wooden comb. One end had thick teeth, for detangling, and the other was more delicate, designed for actually brushing hair properly. Jaskier sat on his bedroll and worked at his mop. He let his eyes blink at their own tired pace, unable to muster up any energy to genuinely wake up. Slowly, his hair migrated from the top of his head down to its proper place below his jaw. He lazily scolded himself for allowing his lovely, thick, dark brown locks get too long, though the thought of a haircut disturbed him. He liked having his hair touch his shoulders, any shorter and his lovers wouldn’t have enough to grab without killing the mood. Jaskier dreamed about the unfortunate night between him, an innkeeper’s wife, a wedding band, and a pair of scissors while he tried to get a better grasp on consciousness. His hand dramatically fell into his lap when he was done with his hair. His head drooped as he lost the battle to stay awake and start his day. Geralt’s fur, still warm from being slept on, was calling to him. Jaskier didn’t lie down. He knew that properly waking up would be an even more monumental task if he did. However, that didn’t stop the man from dozing where he sat. His breaths slowed, and he let his mind wander deeper into the fuzzy warmth of dreamland. He reassured himself that he had time to sleep for just a few more minutes. Geralt would let him know when it was really time to start the day. 

Jaskier paused. Where was Geralt? The bard’s eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of the lack of another person around the campsite. His heartbeat picked up slightly as his mind tried and failed to wake up enough to process the environment around him. Geralt’s bedroll? Gone. Fuck. Bags? Where were Geralt’s things? Jaskier’s half lidded eyes quickly found the familiar pile of bags a few feet away where his friend had slept. He took in a deep breath and let his shoulders sag as he released a sigh. He haphazardly rubbed at his face with his hand. Logically, he knew that his best friend would never just abandon him. They had been traveling together for far too long for Geralt to up and leave. He chuffed to himself, it was far too early to be so dramatic. He casually thought about how annoyed his friend would be if he knew he had dared to think that Geralt would actually get up one morning and walk away, especially because of how much the witcher personally hated deception. 

Jaskier mourned the loss of getting more sleep. With a deep breath the bard raised his arms and stretched. His shoulders and back thanked him with a satisfying pop. He took his time crossing each arm over his body and holding in place with the other, savoring the feeling as his muscles became more malleable the more he stretched them. The relaxing feeling brought a yawn to his lips. His eyes closed as his lungs filled with air. The pressure of the yawn stretched his jaw and tugged at his lips. He smacked them nonchalantly for a moment and tried to swallow the dryness in his mouth. In one motion he wiped his lips, put his hand on his chin, and twisted his head, coaxing his neck to pop. It readily complied and cracked twice for good measure. He shook out his arms and brought his hands together to crack his knuckles. He looked for Geralt as he worked on each of his fingers. The witcher was standing at the very edge of the camp where Roach had been parked the previous night. Geralt stood with his back to the bard and his hands on his hips. He was studying his mare. Jaskier didn’t give it much thought as he finally made a move to stand up. His legs and hips joined the rest of his body in the snap crackle pop symphony that liked to perform after long nights on the ground. 

The bard yawned again and scratched at his bare stomach as he padded over to where his shirt had landed the night before. He tugged it on carelessly and let his arms flop to his side. He sauntered back over to the bag next to his bedroll and grabbed his cup, which was more like a tall wooden bowl with a handle, and his waterskin. He helped himself to a few hearty gulps of water before replacing the cork and carefully tossing it back onto the bag. He walked over to the fire he and Geralt had built the night before and cracked the lid to the pot hanging above the flames. The bones from the rabbit they had eaten for dinner had been turned into a lovely broth overnight, and the witcher had gone and turned it into an agreeable soup since starting his day. The man had even thrown in some herbs and salt, and had thickened it with a handful of oats. Next to the fire was a used bowl identical to his with a spoon in it. The bard used the spoon to stir the gruel and add some to his own cup. He inhaled the aroma and let the warmth fill his sinuses. It wasn’t a particularly luxurious breakfast, but it was far better than stale bread. 

He stood up and looked over at Geralt. He had gone from staring at Roach to brushing her, which by itself wasn’t unusual, but she would normally have at least her saddle on by now. Jaskier sipped on his soup and watched as the witcher methodically brushed the mare. The bard may have been Geralt’s best friend, but before they knew each other, that position had belonged to Roach. Admittedly, the only reason he was promoted to best friend in the first place was because the Roach in front of him wasn’t the same Roach he met all those years ago. That horse was retired about 7 years ago to live the rest of her days in Kaer Morhen. He liked to think she was still kicking, but he wasn’t sure. 

Like the mare before her, Roach was a dignified, respectable lady. There were rumors that she liked to push people around with her nose when she wanted attention, and that she had a bad habit of nibbling on her witcher when he was trying to stand there and look menacing, Geralt always made sure to pay a little extra so that Roach could get special attention from the stable hands. When they were traveling, pampering Roach was Geralt’s first priority when they found someplace to settle for the night. He would remove everything from her back, replace her bridle with a halter and lead, brush her fur, clean her hooves, and drive a nail into a nearby tree to hang her feed from. After she had enough, the witcher would pull out the nail and feed bag and pack it away so that it could be used again later. Geralt would then help Jaskier finish setting up camp as she nibbled on the vegetation around them. It wasn’t uncommon for her to wander out of sight, but the bard knew that his friend used his enhanced senses to keep tabs on her. If she strayed too far, all Geralt had to do was whistle and the mare would come trotting back. When everything was done, the witcher would take Roach with him to find food and water. Jaskier was certain that it was so Geralt could gossip to her behind his back, but that didn’t stop him from sneaking her treats whenever he could. It was what she deserved, after all, for putting up with blockheads like them. 

Geralt had gone back to staring at his horse with his hands on his hips. Jaskier watched the witcher shake his head with a sigh and run his hand through his hair. Something was amiss, and where there’s drama, there’s Dandelion. Geralt’s words, not his. Jaskier huddled close to his hot cup and started making his way over to his friend. The bard stopped next to him and took a sip of soup. His underwear harshly contrasted against Geralt’s fully armored body, and it would have been funny if it weren’t for the witcher’s hardened expression. His face was so tense with concern that it looked like it was carved from stone. The bard could almost see the gears turning in his friend’s head. 

After a handful of seconds, Geralt turned his head towards Jaskier. His expression didn’t budge as he gave him a once-over. 

There was another pause. 

“You were combing your hair in your sleep.” He said.  
  
Jaskier’s eyes widened in surprise and he stammered a response, “Uh- uh- huh- h- I’ll have you know that I! Was _not_ asleep!!!” 

Out of all the things Geralt could have said in that moment, he chose to comment on his bloody hair!

Geralt’s expression finally broke. The corners of the witcher’s lips curved ever so slightly as he raised his eyebrows. He was _amused!_ He was making a _joke!_ “If you say so, Dandelion.” 

“I do say so!” Jaskier yelped. He was beyond confused. In all the years he had known Geralt, he never would have guessed that a joke! A _joke_ of all things would follow such a serious facial expression! “At least I haven’t spent all morning staring at the horse!” He continued, “By the way, why have you been staring at the horse all morning??”

Geralt’s amusement hadn’t budged. He turned to face the bard, clasped his hands over Jaskier’s (who was still holding half a cup of soup), and looked him dead in the eye. 

“Roach,” He said, “Is pregnant.” 

“SHE’S _WHAT?!_ ” 

“It will be born next spring.” He said. The witcher turned his attention back to his horse. He smiled softly as he stroked her neck. 

“How do you know?? When could it possibly have happened??” Jaskier let out a strangled, exasperated gasp and flapped his free hand at the mare, “And you! You naughty girl! Look at yourself! You’re in quite a bind young lady!” The bard sighed and joined Geralt in petting the horse. 

“I think it happened last month,” Geralt said after a moment, “Remember the endrega contract? The stable in the village had a pasture where the horses could roam. I could smell that they were trying to breed them.” 

Jaskier’s eyes widened, “Is that why you were in such a foul mood when we left?” 

“Hmm.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything? I thought you were mad at me for knocking over your White Gull while you were making potions that morning!” Jaskier cried.  
  
“I was.” The witcher replied.

“So you weren’t upset that Roach got knocked up.” 

“I hoped that it wouldn’t take. Obviously, I was wrong.” Geralt deadpanned. 

“What’s gonna happen Geralt? We can’t take care of a baby horse! We can barely take care of ourselves!” The bard threw an arm around the horse and rubbed his face in her neck. He even pretended like she didn’t smell a sweaty sock. 

The bard felt a hand on his shoulder, “Jaskier. It will be okay. I’ll take her back to Kaer Morhen. Vesemir will take care of her and her foal and I’ll take his horse on the Path next year. After that, she’ll travel with us again.” 

Geralt coaxed his friend to turn and face him instead of Roach. The bard sniffed and haphazardly wiped horse fur off his face, “What will happen to it?” 

“Vesemir will raise it and sell it to the village when it’s ready. That, or he’ll keep it around.” Geralt suddenly looked extremely disturbed, “He might eat it.” 

“Geralt!!” Jaskier pleaded. 

“I’ll ask him not to eat it.” Geralt stated.

The witcher looked Jaskier up and down, clapped his hand on his friend’s shoulder, and walked back towards the camp. Jaskier followed suit. The bard downed the rest of his soup and went to work organizing his things. When he looked up, he saw that Geralt had moved his bags next to Roach and was currently crouching over the pot and stirring what was left of breakfast. The soup was still warm despite the fact that the fire had died down significantly. The bard pulled on his scandalously tight, high waisted trousers and tucked his flowy linen shirt into the waist. After tugging his boots onto his feet and lacing them up, he shrugged on his signature dusty blue doublet. He finished off the look by _not_ finishing the look, letting the front of his jacket hang open. He swiftly finished packing up his things, grabbed his oddly-shaped bowl cup thing, and walked over to the pot. The bard crouched next to his friend and held out his dish. The witcher wordlessly filled both of their cups with the rest of the gruel. Before Geralt could do anything else, Jaskier reached to disassemble their camping spit, effectively claiming that chore. His friend said nothing, picked up his cup, and made his way over to Roach. The witcher stopped halfway and stood there for a moment. He threw his head back as he gulped down the rest of his soup in two large swigs. He tossed the cup in the direction of his bags without a second thought and grabbed everything he needed to get Roach ready for the day. 

“Are you sure it’s okay to ride her?” He heard Dandelion call from behind him as he threw the proper blankets and padding over the mare’s back.

“She won’t be too far along to ride until late winter. As long as we keep her out of danger she’ll be fine.” Geralt responded. 

He heaved the saddle onto Roach’s back and ducked under her belly to grab the girth. He took a moment to run his hand over her stomach before securing the saddle. He wanted to say that he could feel the foal inside her, but it was too early for it to even have a heartbeat. Roach becoming pregnant filled his heart with a strange warmth. The witcher trials take away the ability to sire children, not that their lifestyle would ever be suited for raising a child. The only way a witcher could acquire a child was through the Law of Surprise. If a witcher found himself tied to a child surprise, the kid was either sent to become a witcher if they were male, or given to a temple of Melitele to become a priestess if they were female. A witcher’s destiny was to travel the Path alone, which is something Jaskier made sure didn’t happen, take contracts, kill monsters, and return to their keep to hibernate and do it all again the following year. The sorcerers at Kaer Morhen didn’t kill hundreds of boys during the trials so that the ones who survived could live a cushy life as a farmer. No, as a reward for living through the brutal mutations, which made perfectly healthy 10 year old boys’ blood vessels explode, you got a job fighting monsters until you fuck up and got killed. Geralt had made peace with his situation years ago and accepted the fact that he was just one of those people who didn’t get to experience settling down and starting a family. That was for humans, and his humanity died over 80 years ago, surrounded by evil men in a cold, damp cave that smelled like death. 

All he remembered from the trials was blinding pain as his soul was ripped from him and mutilated so horrifically that no one dared to call it human anymore. He remembered how his blood felt like acid under his skin, making every inch of his body burn as it corroded his flesh until he was nothing more than a limp, helpless child, mere seconds from death. He remembered being wide awake as his brothers lay gasping in their beds, able to sit upright while the other boys perished from pure, unfiltered exhaustion. Their bodies had simply been unable to heal fast enough. Some boys moaned as they drew their final breaths, others passed away quietly, the only evidence being the stillness of their chest and an unblinking stare. 

During that time, the sun burned Geralt’s eyes, and his ears roared with overwhelming amounts of sound, yet he was still doing better than everyone else. Instead of letting him recover and continue on with his life, the bastards of Kaer Morhen put him through another round of trials, just to see what it would do. Nevermind the fact that only he and one other boy from his age group, Eskel, were still alive. Just when Geralt thought he had done it, he had survived the Trial of the Grasses, he was pulled from his bed and carried back down into the cave that smelled like death. His 10 year old body could barely put up a fight while they strapped him to that table once again. He had wailed just as hard as he had the first time he'd been tortured. His own shrill, pained screams echoed off the walls and drove nails into his eardrums. The more he screamed, the worse the pain got. The only reason it stopped was because he had eventually made himself sick, replacing the sound of a dying boy with that of an animal choking on its own throat. From that point on, his body only allowed him to communicate through weak, pathetic wimpers. Consciousness would come and go as it pleased and left him in a mess of pain, drool, and tears. He had spent the next several months in bed, fighting off a perpetual fever and unable to move his body in any meaningful way. His mind had refused to form memories while he was sick. He knew his body was moved for him so that he could be cleaned or fed potions. He knew that Eskel, who had pulled through and officially survived the trials, sat with him when he could. His brother talked to him despite Geralt being unable to answer, held his hands when his entire body cramped during stiff, unrelenting episodes of excruciating pain, and supported Geralt as he spent his 11th year relearning how to walk and pick up spoons without dropping them. Years later, when they were grown men spending the winter in Kaer Morhen, he and Eskel found themselves properly shit faced on White Gull. The trials came up in conversation. Eskel started to reminisce, then he started to tremble. 

“Geralt,” He said with tears in his eyes threatening to spill over and flow down his mangled face, “I was so afraid that you were going to die. I thought… I thought you were going to die.” 

Eskel buried his face in his hands and stifled a sob, “It’s selfish. I was so selfish, because all I could think about was how I would be alone.”

“I didn’t want to be alone.” He had croaked. 

Geralt suddenly felt someone grab his shoulder. He startled and quickly turned around to face the threat. He _knew_ that it was just Jaskier, but he couldn’t stop his body from barbarically grabbing his friend by the throat. The bard made a choking sound and weakly slapped at the hand that was currently cutting off his airway. 

“-eral!! -ease…” The bard pleaded. He had no choice. Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut, shifted his weight, and kicked as hard as he could at the most sensitive area on his best friend. Geralt buckled, and the two men crumpled on the ground. One gasping for air, and the other aggressively breathing through his nose to mitigate the pain in his groin. 

“Jaskier, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Geralt asked through labored breaths. 

“I’m okay,” Dandelion coughed in response, “I’m sorry I startled you.” 

“Don’t be.” The witcher cursed himself. How did he let mind wander from his pregnant mare to nearly dying in the trials 8 decades ago? 

The men sat on the ground and did their best to collect themselves. A handful of time passed before either one of them made a move to get up. Geralt was the first one to stand. He silently finished readying Roach for the day, carefully securing his and Jaskier’s bags in the proper places. The witcher mounted his horse and started walking. His friend followed suit and casually plucked at his lute while they made their way down the road.

**Author's Note:**

> Be brutal in the comments! I seriously would love to know your opinions on my writing, even if you think they're mean. I know it's weird but I like hearing what I did wrong so that I can do better next time haha. Anyway, thanks for reading! This fic was originally going to be one chapter, so any chapters after this are more or less epilogues/bonus content! Cheers!


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